Observances
by Lanaa Taurof
Summary: The observances of Tony, Ziva, and other members of Team Gibbs on the ever-changing relationship between our dynamic duo. A series of one-shots seen through rose-colored Tiva goggles.
1. Tony: She Scares Me

_**Author's Note:** The idea for this story came to me after watching the episode Enemies Domestic. It was that moment between Tony and Ziva where she's explaining something serious to him and not once does he try to be an idiot. He knows exactly what she's saying. I prefer to think of Mr. DiNozzo as a grownup, because in my view of the show that's what he is. This series has no beta, so if there are any mistakes they are all of my own making. I hope you enjoy._

_**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS and have no affiliation with any studios or broadcast companies. I am simply borrowing beloved characters for my own entertainment. Not one red cent was or has been earned.  
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She scares me sometimes when she looks right at me, eye to eye.

Not in the way you might think, though. Sure, she can kill me in more ways than I could possibly imagine, but it's been a long while since I've been afraid of her like that. I know for a fact she would never purposefully hurt me. We're partners. You don't physically harm your partner, even when you're furious. Believe me when I tell you that she's been as furious with me as any human being has ever been with another, yet I'm still here.

She scares me because I know she sees me. The me I hide from everyone else. The me that figures things out when no one else sees it, but hides it behind a veneer of frat boy stupidity. The me who could have long since run my own team, but refused because the prospect of being separated from certain people was too much to bear.

It's strangely comforting to me when she waits until we're alone to treat me as an equal. You would think it would be insulting, right? I want you to treat me like a grownup when the other grownups are around, that way they know it, too. That's not the persona I've spent the last fifteen years cultivating. I'm the village idiot, you see. The senior field agent that is quick to order others around, but rather than take a situation seriously I make a joke or bring up a classic movie reference.

Ziva, though, sees through all the crap. She asks me serious questions and depending on her tone and how she looks directly into my eyes, I know to answer just as seriously. She scares me sometimes when she looks at me like that. Those dark eyes of hers see right through me, and there's not a damn thing I would do about it even if I could.


	2. Gibbs: Searching for Partners

Where the _hell _are DiNozzo and David?

The damn case we're working on is all over the map, quite literally. We know who we're looking for, but he could be in any one of four states by now and the only thing that's going to find him before he does something stupid is him making a mistake or good police work by my team. McGee can't help us now with his fancy computers and algorithms. It's all legwork and paperwork.

The last time I saw the two I'm looking for they were attempting to pour over the personal records of our perp along with blown up copies of Maryland, the Virginias and Pennsylvania. There hadn't been room on either of their desks, so the natural assumption is they are somewhere with more surface area. Striking out in search, first I check the break room; given it has a table that's good for this kind of thing. My agents are nowhere to be seen, however. Three stops later and I'm just as empty-handed, so I reach for my phone only to stop mid-stride.

There they sit, cross-legged on the ground like four-year-olds, nestled in one of the exterior corridors next to a stairwell. DiNozzo's wrinkling a thousand dollar suit and Ziva's leaning forward, pointing to a spot on the map. When it's obvious he's at the wrong angle, Ziva slides over next to him and turns the giant jigsaw. Leaning on him for balance, she shows DiNozzo again. He looks up at her with a grin so wide it's probably painful, and then says something that makes her laugh.

Honestly, I'm a little surprised McGee didn't join in on whatever the hell it is that they're doing, but knowing Tim, he's down in Abby's lab trying every computer trick he can think of to come up with an answer. Knowing Abby, she'll help him find it. McGee's a bit of an outcast with these two, though. Oh, they love him, but he's different, and in being different they're never really sure what to do with him in times where his expertise is of no value to them.

Tony and Ziva have been partners too long. Typically a long-term partnership is one that lasts two years, three at the most. You're put together to lessen the workload and increase the efficiency that only one agent would have been able to accomplish. Partners don't work out sometimes, but generally they develop a camaraderie that allows them to accomplish what needs doing. They learn all the things that make the other tick, along with what drives them absolutely insane.

Occasionally, and quite rarely, a partnership will stay together so long that they reach a point of no return. If you separate them they may be useless to the next person to whom they are assigned, or the old partnership simply continues to operate independently of their new partners. If separated with finality, geographically for example, you run the risk of agents becoming despondent. I've heard it compared to losing a spouse.

That's the point to which Tony and Ziva have found themselves. They do everything together unless I specifically instruct otherwise. If they weren't so damn effective it would be annoying. What I'm worried about is if they screw up this thing they have between them then there's no fixing it. You can't work together after you've been through what they've been through, then wake up one day and decide you "need space." Rule twelve exists for a reason, but now they've reached the point of no return.

I step forward until they look away from each other to see me. It's time to go catch us a bad guy.


	3. Tony and Ziva Win

"McGee," Abby whispers. He doesn't hear so she repeats the word again. He's rifling through a box of paper that's God knows how old. Well, that's not true. She knows exactly how old it is, but there's no point in being pompous. Between carbon copies and fingerprint cards, McGee looks up and raises his eyebrows in response. As she nods across the room, he turns his head to see what it is she's so interested in.

Against the chain link that surrounds the evidence locker lean their senior and probationary agents, and they're sound asleep. It's a miracle one of them isn't snoring, but that probably has more to do with them having just fallen asleep than anything else. If you give them half an hour, they'll be rattling the walls. How is it they don't wake the other up with all that racket? This is how people go through life insisting they don't snore. They surround themselves with people who do, then argue it's not **me** who snores, it's **you**. It's a vicious cycle.

Abby quietly motions for McGee to come sit next to her and murmurs, "They're sleeping." The look McGee shoots toward the forensic specialist results in her lightly slapping his shoulder with the back of her hand. "Isn't it cute?"

"Cute?" He responds. At that moment a loud snort echoes through the air. With a mumble, Tony edges closer until Ziva's head falls to the side onto his shoulder, then they're both snoring. Wonderful. Looking from Abby back to the sonorous duo, he has to admit it's charming. Tony's head even rests on top of Ziva's. "How should we wake them up?" He asks conspiratorially.

After just a moment's indignation, she looks thoughtfully at the pair. "Well, we can't go over there and try anything." McGee nods. That was a given, assuming you wanted to remain living. Never approach a ninja while she's asleep. You risk life and limb. Especially limbs. Beware of ninjas and rule number nine. "We could yell," she proposes, but with only a modicum of enthusiasm. All yelling would do is result in Ziva opening her eyes and squinting. Tony most likely wouldn't even budge until she elbowed him awake. McGee shrugs one shoulder.

"DiNozzo!"

Abby and McGee leap to their feet, whirling around to see Gibbs standing a few feet outside the locker. If she wasn't mistaken, Abby would swear there was a slight grin tugging at the corner of Gibbs' mouth. Hand over heart, she cries, "Gibbs! What have I told you about my heart palpitations?" Without taking his eyes from the man whose name he shouted, he answers, "Sorry, Abs."

Turning herself to see Tony, she notices that he hasn't moved a muscle. He does, however, answer with eyes still closed, "Yeah, boss?"

"Where is it?"

Abby's brows draw together in confusion. Where is what? If they had found it, surely they would have said something. I mean, sure it's after three in the morning, but there's no excuse for not sharing. Even if you are exhausted. It's just rude. Yet there Tony was, wiggling a piece of paper in his hand, eyes still closed!

Ziva chose this moment to open one eye and ask, "What time is it?"

Gibbs replies, "A quarter after three." She lets out a keening noise as she stretches both arms and legs at once. "There's nothing else for you to do until eight, so get some rest and I'll see all of you then."

Tony chooses this moment to unroll himself from the concrete floor, stretching his back and cracking his neck before offering Ziva a hand up. A normal person would have accepted the offer, but Ziva was Ziva and simply hopped up like she had managed to squeeze in a full night's rest in the last half hour. As they walk past, Tony says cheekily, "Night, Abs. Night, McGrumble."

After watching them disappear through the doors of the elevator, Abby stands directly in front of Gibbs and says accusingly, "They called you without telling us."

He nods. "It's not like anyone was going anywhere, Abs, and a deal's a deal. You need to get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." Kissing her on the cheek, he turns on his heel and walks away, the thirty-year-old case's notes tucked safely inside his jacket pocket.

Abby turns to McGee and smiles as he good-naturedly whines, "Now we owe them dinner."

"That we do, Timmy. That we do."


	4. Ziva: I Hate Days Like This

I hate days like this.

A Marine staff sergeant, his wife and two children are all murdered. The suspect is in custody, but we are still on call to work the scene and collect all evidence. Children are always hard to see in such a way, but especially when the parents had obviously done all they could to protect them. In this case, their mother lay in front, futility attempted to shield their small bodies.

"We're done here," Gibbs announces. He sounds as exhausted as I feel. I turn to see Tony looking at the spot where the children had been, a blank expression masking the turmoil I know he must be feeling. I am feeling it too, but do not know if my face mirrors his. It is likely that it does.

After we collect our equipment, I advance methodically toward the Charger and ensconce myself in the back seat. The air here is clean and lacks the coppery scent of death. A scene like this is nothing I have not seen before on an even larger scale, but I find myself just as grateful each and every time to leave such a place.

Gibbs, McGee and Tony all enter the car at nearly identical moments, all silent. Tony, sitting next to me, looks out his window and allows himself to release a breath he most likely feels he has been holding for hours. I watch him until I know he feels my eyes on him. He turns his head and looks at me as though I am not here at all. One breath, two, and he blinks slowly, shoulders drooping in defeat.

In a moment such as this the simple thing would be to say something like, "It will be all right." It is the truth. Eventually, like all terrible things, the immense tragedy will dull, but I know from experience that right now nothing is as it should be. He is lost. Well all are lost in the knowledge that these children and their parents have had their lives stolen, and nothing will ever make it right.

Right now, though, what Tony needs is touch. I will not lie to myself and deny that I also need it, so I reach out and take his hand, lacing our fingers together. The warmth that spreads from his hand to mine is something that continues to amaze me. It is not the first time I have wondered whether such a connection has more to do with the emotional than the physical, because I find myself comforted on a level that a few minutes ago I would not have believed possible. I feel my eyes drift closed.

"Ziva," Gibbs says. When I open my eyes I find his boring into mine through the rear-view mirror.

"I am fine," I reply mechanically.

"DiNozzo?"

"Fine, boss."

Gibbs nods and ensures that McGee is also fine. I often wonder who makes sure Gibbs is fine after such a day. A squeeze draws my attention back to Tony, whose expression is one that asks if I truly am fine. Laying my head back on the seat, I nod and offer a small smile. Tony nods and squeezes once more.

It will be all right.


End file.
